Dangerous Game
by PhantomPenguin
Summary: It was a dangerous game they played, one flitting back and forth between sensuality and sense, teetering between what was proper and what emotion determined was right. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: Still not mine, unfortunately.**

Two updates in basically just as many days...I am on a _roll! _Go me! Now, this is for all of my readers who have been wanting something a bit...spicier, if you will. It is not M, and is still rather moderate, but I feel that it delves a bit deeper than my stories usually do. I'd like to say that my main motivation for this story is actually derived from the Jekyll & Hyde musical, from the song "Dangerous Game." There is an _excellent _video on YouTube of the original cast members performing this song, and even before I had the idea to write this I've felt that Robert Cuccioli's voice (that is, Hyde's) is _exactly _how I would have imagined Paton's.

Check it out for yourselves (make sure to erase the spaces) and let me know your opinions! http: /www. youtube. com/watch?v=hr7mu5RUNyk

Please enjoy, and please review; I'm very interested to see what sort of feedback this receives.

* * *

><p>Moonlight shone through the windows of the bookstore's back room, its silvery glow nearly as illuminating as the single candle that Paton could see flickering within. He was fresh arrived from the brisk autumn air, bringing with him the aroma of leaf smoke, city life, and a cedar and leather-tinged musk that was uniquely him. He did not even pause once inside to remove his dark leather duster or long white scarf, instead striding straight through the darkened shop to the back room that sat beyond. He moved slowly, attempting to pass unnoticed by the room's sole occupant.<p>

Of course, Julia could never fail to notice Paton's arrival; the moment he had arrived, she had slipped a thin mark in her book and set it aside, fidgeting with her hands, then had risen to stand beside the darkened fireplace, staring absently into the pile of spluttering ash. She picked up the poker and made a feeble stab at the hearth, attempting to bring some life back into the darkened ashes. She had fallen into her reading and allowed the flames to sputter and die, seeking wood that never came.

Now, the room had fallen dark and chill, the frost from outside filtering through even the thick, well-built walls of the bookshop. She shivered, clutching her thin blouse around her; it seemed she had underestimated the evening's chill.

Paton was close to her now—his careful steps had ceased, and she could feel his breath over her shoulder, feel the slight gust of air pass across the back of her neck as he exhaled. Stepping up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, crossing his hands across her stomach, and rested his chin atop her head. "Hello, love," he murmured.

Julia smiled broadly, though she knew he could not see her face. "Paton," she said warmly, her voice tinged with wry amusement, "what a surprise." She leaned back against his chest, relaxing into his solid embrace. She felt his lean frame fill with air as he huffed out a soft laugh, the muscles of his chest and stomach tightening slightly with the motion.

"You weren't expecting me, then?" he asked. "For some strange reason, I sincerely doubt that." He hugged Julia against him for a moment, reveling in how snugly her body fit against his, then began slow, measured steps backwards to the couch, careful not to overextend a step as he drew her along with him.

It was her turn to laugh now, her ribs expanding beneath his hands as she chuckled. "Alright, you caught me," she confessed, lowering her hands to curl her fingers around his. Her feet followed the path he set out, taking small, hesitant steps so as not to trod on his toes.

Paton felt the edge of the couch bump against his calves and pressed his nose to Julia's neck, knowing the action was sure to illicit an amusing reaction.

She gasped, jerking away from the contact. "You're _cold_," she accused, twisting in his grasp to meet his grin with an accusing sienna stare.

His breath whuffed out in amused flow, and he suddenly sagged back into the couch, unceremoniously pulling her with him and neatly depositing her onto the cushion beside him. "_That_," he said, "is the result of two things, my dear. First and foremost, I don't suppose you have been outside recently? It is _cold_, Julia." He dodged her playful prod and continued, "_And_, it is cold in here as well. You seem to be inhabiting an icebox."

Julia shrugged self-consciously and nestled into his side, his leather coat creaking as she pressed her face into it, the feel of the well-worn duster smooth against her skin. "I got distracted reading," she said by way of explanation.

"On Halloween?" He laughed. "Only you, Julia…" Reminded of the date, he raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the stairs that led to the second floor apartment, noting the distinct lack of clamor that typically accompanied Julia's niece and her myriad of companions. "On that note, shouldn't Emma and an assortment of friends be traipsing about in various costumes?"

"Emma," Julia said pointedly, "is at Olivia's Halloween party—extravaganza, really—and is spending the night." She quirked a playful eyebrow. "Hadn't I mentioned?"

Paton's expression became decidedly more calculating. "Is she, now," he murmured. His brows drew together and he stared across the room, momentarily lost in though. "Is she really..." Breaking free from whatever path his mind traveled, he turned to Julia and raised an eyebrow of his own. "And you didn't want to dress up? I seem to distinctly remember you making an absurd fuss over this very holiday within recent years."

She sat up slightly, smoothing over the creases she had made in his coat sleeve. "I was celebrating through my reading this year," she said, inclining her head to the small table on which she had placed her book.

Eyes alight with interest, he rose and picked it up, grasping the slim volume between two fingers and holding it close for scrutiny. "_The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_," he read, eyebrows raising in surprise and some emotion she could not quite identify, "yes, I can see how that would be in keeping with the Halloween mood."

Julia rose and joined him. "It's been an excellent read," she said. "Really makes you think while at the same time offering a rather frightening idea of the distinction between good and evil."

"The human mind is…fascinating," Paton remarked, turning the book over and over from one hand to the other. He looked over at Julia, the faint shades of an idea lurking in his expression. "This is a musical as well," he said, holding the book aloft so he could look at both it and her expression, judging her reaction. "Did you know that? We performed it while I was in school."

Rarely, if ever, did Paton allude to his musical background, and indications that he had been taken theatrical roles were all but omitted from what background he _did _share. Julia's eyes glinted with interest, turning amber in the light of the one flickering candle that remained alight. "Really? Which role was yours?"

He turned to look at her, eyes dark with a curious emotion. "I was our dear friend Henry Jekyll," he said, head quirking to the left, "yet at the same time I was the malevolent Edward Hyde. Two men, one body—it was truly the most challenging vocal part I have ever worked with." His expression grew decidedly calculating. "The idea of a split personality, of the manifestation of a man's animalism—it has a certain allure that cannot be denied."

Listening to him speak, Julia could almost imagine that he played the role now, that he stood beside her, the well-groomed and tender Henry Jekyll, on the brink of slipping into his decidedly darker role. She shivered, telling herself that it was due to the cold of the room, but she knew well and good that it was his proximity to her, and the illogical allure of a Paton without inhibitions, that elicited the shudder.

He felt her tremble beside him and unconsciously knew the direction her train of thought had taken. He followed it, delving back into memories of the tenderness and honesty of Jekyll's melodies, the sensuous pleasure that accompanied Hyde's crooning chords, the violent rage that rang across the stage and pounded in his blood with each musical confrontation.

Julia raised a hand to his shoulder and placed a finger on his cheekbone, lightly tracing a path along his jaw. "I've told you _my _excuse for not dressing up," she said softly, hoping she was not placing herself in the dangerous realm of being misunderstood, "but what is yours?"

In one smooth motion, he caught her hand in his, stilling its caress and drawing it down to rest palm-up against his chest. He leaned down to look at her, lips curling back in a slightly wolfish smile. "And who says I'm not?" he murmured, pulling her hand slowly up his chest until it was curled around his neck.

He lowered his lips to her and kissed her slowly, taking care to savor every second of sweet contact. She was satin against his mouth, smoother and softer than anything else he could imagine. She was everything he desired and more, the perfect companion to his soul, his very self. He held her lightly against his chest, hands gently grasping her hips, wanting her to be able to feel safe in his arms, to know that she was dearer to him than everything else in the world. Yet, at the same time, his kiss held a taste of something extra, a slight, savory dollop of the forbidden, of the temptations that lurked just beyond the finer lines of propriety.

Julia tasted the sweetness, savored his gentle caress, and all but drowned in that first wave of tempting darkness. Drawing away, she ran her hands up his coat, fingering the buttons that held it secured. "And how are you this evening, Henry Jekyll?" she asked coyly, sliding a finger under the top button of his duster.

Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he smiled and removed her hands from his coat, beginning to undo the buttons himself. "Quite well, my love, if a little overdressed for an indoor setting."

She swatted his hands away. "Allow me." Her fingers crept one-by-one down the coat, meticulously unfastening the long row of buttons, pressing a light kiss to his lips as each came unclasped. As the final button released, Paton shrugged out of the overcoat, sliding his arms out of the dark sleeves and turning to lay it carefully along the tall back of the armchair that sat against the wall.

"Thank you." His voice was little more than a whisper, and he leaned forward to capture her lips once more. This time, he pulled her tightly against him, one hand at the small of her back, the other at her shoulders, pressing her to him with an urgency that had been previously absent. The darkness, the temptation, the allure-they were all there in greater abundance, surging against her mouth with a greater presence, setting her blood to boil.

Drawing away momentarily to regain her breath, Julia took in his darkened, dilated gaze. Slowly, like one working not to startle a wild animal, she unwound the white scarf from around his neck, exposing skin of nearly the same pearly sheen to the cold bite of the room. Not looking away from his sable eyes, she allowed the slip of fabric to drop to the floor behind his shoulder, then leaned in to press her cold nose to his throat. "Mmm," she murmured happily, "You're warm."

His throat vibrated against her face as he gave a dark chuckle. "And you are most certainly not." He took one step forward, then another, slowly maneuvering her back against the opposite wall. "Shall we rectify that?" His hands curled about her wrists, moving to hold her hands against the wall, effectively trapping her with his body. She was rubber in his hands now, putty to be molded to suit his whim.

The searing kiss that followed his question left her gasping for breath and thankful that the wall stood behind her, otherwise she would have sagged and fallen to the floor, a molten puddle of goo. Julia closed her eyes as Paton released her wrists, allowing them to fall limply to her sides, then opened them wide as he reached a hand up to her neck, trailed it along the collar of her shirt to push her blouse off her shoulder. The room's frosty bite was cold on her skin, raising goosebumps, but the feel of his finger on her shoulder, tracing a lazy path from arm to neck, was even colder, sending delightful shivers running down her spine.

His eyes seemed to invade her soul, offering the forbidden desire and pleasure that they both wanted but never spoke of. He had…changed, somehow, shifting from the gentle, hesitant Paton that she knew and loved and was comfortable with to a less-restricted and (dare she think it?) more sensuous man, one who allowed his passions to rule him rather than keeping them controlled.

It seemed he had decided to play another role.

At the touch of his hand, she gasped, for his skin was cold against hers—yet the sensation it evoked was anything but. "Are you frightened, my dear?" He asked, the touch of concern in the question working somewhat against the low tenor of his words. Mutely, she shook her head, the sound of his voice making her very soul hum with pleasure. His eyes met hers then, dark and overwhelming and so deep that she felt she could fall in and never escape. He had her trapped, and he knew it well.

This was a darker dream, one laced with desire, so unreal to her in its reality that she had no choice but to believe it was true. He pressed her against the wall and kissed her as she had never been kissed before, lips seeking hers with such intensity that she was overwhelmed. Gently, he bit down on her lower lip and she gasped, flooding with a thrill of sensation. He took advantage of her parted lips and met her tongue with his, claiming her mouth fully as his own.

All Paton knew was that he was lost, completely and utterly, to the beautiful woman in his arms. His emotions were in a spin, cycling through the gamut from love to awe to pure desire. A back part of his mind was considering the cost, the price he was paying for what she was doing to him. His life could never be the same now that he had met her, could never just be what it had once been. He _needed _her, needed Julia more than he had ever needed anything else in the world.

Neither knew who to blame, who had started this spiraling cyclone of emotion and desire. If asked, Julia would cite Paton as the source, using as evidence that first night that he stepped through her doorframe, Charlie's dark and intimidating shadow. Paton, of course, could never _blame _Julia for anything, but he certainly believed that she was the instigator, for what other options did a man have upon seeing her beauty, her wit and glowing personality, than to fall in love?

He lowered his lips to the exposed skin of her shoulder, leaving her mouth raw and red and parted, and pressed a burning kiss to her pale flesh. The contrast between his heat and the room's chill was delightful, and Julia tilted her head back, reveling in the delicious contact between them.

While his mouth trailed a string of slow, sensuous kisses along her shoulder, Paton's hands reached up into her hair, undoing the ties that held the magnificent chestnut tresses in their compressed bun. Freed, they fell to her shoulders in cascading waves, tumbling down to frame her face.

His tongue flicked out at her collarbone, savoring the delightful taste of her skin, and Julia moaned, her hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him tighter against him.

Neither of the two spoke, for words were of no value at the moment. All the words that Paton could speak, that Julia could proclaim—they were all written in their eyes. The silence spoke for them, drawing them together even as it repelled them, a dual magnet pushing them together yet pulling them apart—the unyielding war between desire and propriety.

Julia took the initiative now, tugging his pristine white shirt out from where he'd had it immaculately tucked into his trousers, slipping her hands beneath the hem and running them along his smooth stomach, up along the muscles of his chest to press against his heart. She could feel it thumping wildly beneath her palms, its erratic beat belying the smooth expression of his face. Even now Paton refrained from expressing his emotions, but telltale signs were there for the careful observer—his heartbeat, erratic against her fingers; the searing sting of his skin, aflame with desire; a distinct shortness of breath; his dilated pupils, sable as the darkest of nights.

Her hands slid down and out of his shirt around to his back, one wrapping around his waist, its partner creeping up to curl around his neck and tilt his head down to hers for a gentle kiss. It was a dangerous game they played, one flitting back and forth between sensuality and sense, teetering between what was proper and what emotion determined was right.

Julia struggled to control herself, drawing away slightly and gasping to regain her breath. "You…you're quite convincing in your performance, Paton," she said, running a shaking hand through her hair.

Paton opened his eyes and looked down at the woman in his arms and smiled, the wolfish gleam in his eyes holding her transfixed as he lowered his head to her level once more. "I stopped 'playing a role,' so to speak, moments after I allowed you to assume I was, my dear," he told her, trailing a hand idly through her hair. As her eyes widened in surprise, he leaned in until his mouth was but a hair away from hers. "Very rare," he confessed softly, "is the man who refuses to leap when opportunity knocks."

Her heart beating wildly, pulse throbbing in her veins, Julia closed the meager distance between them. Turning back had ceased to be an option. "Well," she murmured against his lips, "That is certainly something to remember."

Then he kissed her, and words were lost once more.


End file.
